


About the Kidnapping

by Cryptographic_Delurk



Category: Tales of Legendia
Genre: Abduction, Gen, Mid-Canon, something about critiquing Shirley's agency or lack thereof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptographic_Delurk/pseuds/Cryptographic_Delurk
Summary: Shirley is abducted by a bandit leader upon arriving at the Legacy.It is not the first time she’s been taken captive. Nor will it be the last time.





	About the Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

> Please check the end notes if you’d like content warnings and extra commentary. Otherwise, please Read & Relax.

She only screamed once, or maybe twice, when she finally woke up again. It wasn’t that she was shy, or ashamed. It was just that beyond the capacity that she first felt startled, it didn’t really seem appropriate to continue simply because of distress. She’d seen her whole village burned, Ferines killed and captured, and Stella dead. Compared to that…

She couldn’t think about that any longer. Either Senel would save her, or he wouldn’t.

But, oh, she had to believe that he would.

“Oh, you’re up,” said the man in the tanned hide pants – the man with no shirt at all. “Didn’t mean to knock you out for that long, little Merines. Hit you a bit too hard, huh?”

At first Shirley didn’t responded at all, thinking of Senel’s hard face and stubborn silence, but then she wondered how much a refusal to say anything was as much as a tacit admission that, yes, she was the Merines. “Oh, I guess?” she finally responded, loose and polite, out of what must have been habit more than anything.

She leaned forward, reached up a hand, vaguely aware that he must have knocked her over the head. But she couldn’t find the bump or the bruise. Just the ooze of jelly and the faint whiff of apples.

The hand that wasn’t woven through her own blonde hair was woven through the coarse sharp fur of a galf. A galf that, she realised, she was perched atop of. The fur shifted and moved under her, and the galf’s shoulders moved up and down as it walked her towards an unknown destination.

“That wannabe boyfriend of yours-” the man without a shirt said, walking next to her. And for a moment Shirley thought he meant Senel, and was poised to turn scarlet as a result. “Blondie with the black wings and the turban,” the man without a shirt continued. “He gave us quite a fight, but he fell back when the rest of my boys showed up to drive him off… Friend o’ yours?”

Shirley did vaguely remember someone like that. But she wasn’t sure what to make of such a figure. She bit her lip, and sat up straighter.

The galf whined under her.

“Whoa there, little lamb,” said the man – the one she now realised was a bandit. “Why don’t you lean back forward a bit. You’re a tiny thing, but not so tiny it’s not gonna cause a crink in ol’ Giet’s back if you don’t distribute your weight all even like.”

Shirley startled, and leaned back down. It wasn’t this poor beast’s fault. She didn’t mean to hurt it, much less agitate it.

Another man, this one with dark hair, came and whispered into the bandit’s ear. He paused to look at Shirley, blushed, then whispered more ferociously.

The bandit nodded back, then turned back to Shirley. “Gotta go take care of some things. You behave in the meantime. Alright, sugar?”

Shirley flushed. She wasn’t sure she liked the names. “A-And if I don’t?” she tried, just to be defiant.

The bandit shrugged. “Try it and see what happens, sugar.”

His gait was long as he stalked off. And Shirley watched the way the spotted hide stretched against his legs as he walked for a moment. He seemed to be imposing himself in the middle of a conflict between two of the other bandits, stepping between them and half-talking, half-shouting them down. Eventually Shirley looked away from him, turning to the dark-haired bandit that had been left beside her.

He seemed anxious, maybe even timid, and averted his eyes almost immediately.

Shirley forced herself to blink, and pointedly took in the rest of the situation. A quick survey of the surroundings confirmed to her, no, she would not be attempting to escape anytime soon. She was in the centre of a moving camp, surrounded by a good fourteen captors. Together, they were moving through a canyon that opened up into a grassy valley, under an intermittently cloudy sky. Maybe if she could have made a break for a freshwater lake or river, she could have swum away fast enough, but there didn’t seem to be any water for miles.

Shirley hugged herself closer to the galf, leaning fully against its back, but it seemed to provide no comfort. Its fur was course, and stung against her cheeks. Flecks of dander floated off its skin. And, although it did not stink as bad as Shirley might have suspected such a beast would, it did not smell nice exactly either.

Tears were starting to wet her eyelids and slide down her face, but she cried silently. _Either Senel would save her, or he wouldn’t. _She repeated this thought to herself, until it had numbed her completely.

Eventually the first bandit, the one with the red hair and no shirt, came back.

“You gotta be hungry after all this time.” He shoved an unwrapped butter roll at her. And Shirley, thankful that he hadn’t mentioned her tear-stained face at least, reached for it immediately.

She pressed herself up, so she was leaning up slightly on the galf, before the bandit reached under her shoulders and lifted her up off the animal. She stumbled, as he set her back on the ground.

The galf yawned and braced itself against the ground as it stretched its back, then barked happily at the bandit.

“I know he’s quite the pack animal, but let’s give old Giet a break, little lamb. You Merines folk ain’t so uppity you can’t walk. Are ya?” And when Shirley froze in place, shell shocked, he pulled her forward so her legs cycled forward, instinctively breaking her fall and stumbling into a walk.

She pulled away from the bandit, realising too late he’d already released her.

She must have looked frightened, withdrawing from someone who wasn’t even there anymore. She bit her lip and scowled, hurried to match his pace, then began tearing off bits of the butter roll. It didn’t matter even if it was poison. _Either Senel would save her, or he wouldn’t._

The roll did not taste like poison. It was dry, she thought, and heavy. But all the food she’d had in the past three years had been dry and dense. Nothing at all like the soups and broths and pickled seafood that had grossed Senel out so much – the things she associated with the phrase ‘home cooking’.

As the sun set and darkness began to blanket the sky, a forest started to sprout up on the inclining path around them. The galf was walking to one side of her, and the bandit on the other. The galf was larger than she was. Its shoulder reached almost as high as hers. And the bandit was tall – taller than Senel even. And Shirley was beginning to feel boxed in in a way she hadn’t noticed while riding atop the galf.

“W-Who are you anyway?” Shirley asked.

“Me?” The bandit smiled. “I’m Moses Sandor. And you won’t find another one like me if you spend your whole life searchin’. So you better commit it to memory, little Merines~” He took a moment to preen. “And you? What should I call you, sugar?”

Shirley paused a moment to chew, but there was no roll left. “…Shirley,” she said. And she had to think to not offer the name Fennes as well. _One who prays._

The bandits’ base of operations was built directly into the cliff side. The bannered courtyard had filled with activity, and the travelling group was breaking apart as everyone dispersed throughout the base, with a few parting words to Moses. But he and the galf continued to flank Shirley. She let them lead her to the upper level, to an enclosed room with a lock, and did not fight them. _Either Senel would save her, or he wouldn’t_, she prayed.

The room was very extravagant, with a beautifully tiled floor and a balcony with a severe drop that looked out over the plains. She could see the shining sea from here, for all the good that would do her. There was also a plush round bed with a soft looking dusty rose coverlet. And piles of gold coins.

Moses smoothly locked them inside, and flipped the key in his hand. He smiled smugly to himself, like he was pleased it had all been this easy, and walked over to sit on the side of the bed. “Now, where were we?”

The galf lay on the tile floor. And, sitting down, Moses was finally shorter than her. He smiled up at her and waited. And Shirley held out until her face turned red, and the anticipation nearly killed her. Even then, she thought, she was afraid of being rude.

“Why have you brought me here?” she begged. “What is it that you want?”

Moses hummed to himself, pleased. “There’s a story among my people,” he said. “They said, if you come to the Legacy, you’ll be able to find the sacred eres.”

And Shirley wondered who exactly Moses’s _people _were. Because she doubted this is what he meant – but in her head all she could think was Orerines. _Orerines! _And she knew it was more complicated than that. Living in Crusand these last three years, Senel had tried to teach her some of the ethnic complexities of Orerines society, but it had all gone over her head. The same way Senel had brushed her off whenever she tried to explain the different Ferines tribes to him. Although it was second hand knowledge repeated from her parents and grandparents - knowledge that had become increasingly obsolete in the wake of Orerines raids causing so many divides and reconsolidations of previously distinct cultures.

_What difference does it make? _Senel had said acerbically. _We can’t trust anyone else how things are now, no matter who they are. _He set his dishes in the sink_. …Listen, I have to get back to work. Don’t leave the apartment while I’m gone._

And it had hurt, but she quietly agreed with him. There was no need for complexity. There were Good Orerines, like Senel. And there were Bad Orerines, like all of the ones that murdered her family and burned her village, and like this man in front of her, probably, who was asking her about some fairy tale.

“S-Sacred eres?” Shirley managed to stammer out.

“Yeah,” Moses nodded. “It’s a kind of eres where your fingernails glow with all the colours of the rainbow. Its power can move mountains.”

“A-And why are you telling me about it?” Shirley asked. “What would I know about it?”

“There are a lot of stories my people tell.” Moses rocked back and forth where he was sitting on the bed, gaining momentum. Shirley startled when he jumped up. “They’ll say if a grand gaet judges you worthy, he’ll grant you the power of the sacred eres.” He walked over to the galf, which whined as he scratched it behind the ear. “Or they’ll say that the ocean itself chooses those with the strength to wield it.” He walked over to Shirley. “Or they’ll say you Merinesy Radient types know about it.” He was standing close enough to be intimidating, and smiling assuredly down at her. “All I know is that you’re the Merines, and you’re gonna help me find it. Why don’t you tell me where this sacred eres is, hmm, little lamb?”

“But I’ve never heard of-!” Her voice caught in her throat. She took a step back, but Moses leaned in closer. He put a hand over his chin, where a few scant black whiskers had sprouted, and seemed to study her.

“Although… They say the Merines ain’t like normal folk. But lookin’ at you, I don’t see no difference. Are you just disguised as a regular person?”

Shirley hiccupped, startled, when the galf approached her and began to sniff at her dress. The galf’s ears drooped, and he let out a low whine.

“Well, I guess if Giet says so, that ain’t it. I’m stumped.”

Shirley stared resolutely at Moses’s chest – the painted lines and definition of sinewy muscle – and for a long moment she said nothing. He had gotten her to say a lot, really. Admit, even by omission, more than she would have liked. He was scary, but in a kind of way that felt friendly and inviting. From what little she’d managed to observe while travelling here, she’d gotten the impression that he was the leader of these bandits, and that his men really respected him. And she could see why, even though she wished she couldn’t. He had an earnestness and confidence about him that wasn’t touched by disdain. And even now she wanted to tell him that, pay him that compliment, and she had to struggle not to give in.

“Please let me go,” Shirley said instead.

Moses smiled again. “Do what I want you to, and I just might.”

There was a knock on the door, and Moses walked over to unlock it.

“What’s up, Csaba?”

Shirley craned to see the dark-haired bandit on the other side of the door. Although again he averted her eyes and blushed. He leaned forward to whisper something into Moses’s ear.

“I like the sound of that~” Moses crowed. He turned back to Shirley. “Things are finally gettin’ interesting up in here. We’ll finish our chat later, little Merines. Chamber pot’s on the balcony. And look after Giet for me, y’hear? He’ll let you know where the treats are when he needs a snack.”

And then he was gone, and locked the door behind him.

The galf padded towards the bed and, in one smooth motion, jumped up on it. The mattress groaned, as the galf circled a spot on its right side.

Shirley sighed and, for a moment, only tried to breathe. Then she checked the pile of treasure, the cupboard, the chamber pot and the balcony, which had quite the drop to the ground. And then she finally went and sat on the side of the bed, ignoring where the galf had curled into a ball and drifted off to sleep on the other side.

She tried to think of Senel – her hope for salvation. But all that occurred to her was what the bandits might do to her. She didn’t know anything about any sacred eres, and they would not free her without it. And once it became clear to them she had no information for them, and no power as the Merines either… Maybe they would sell her to the army that was after her? Who could even say?

And it occurred to her she was trapped in a man’s bedroom, sitting on a man’s bed. Except that wasn’t quite true, was it? Moses had seemed like a man to her at first but, having seen him up close, she could see the way he still had an adolescent scrawniness to him. He was a boy not that much older than she was, maybe not even older than Senel. And he was warm and strong, like Senel, and maybe even a little handsome, and what if he asked her to touch him, in this bed? And what if he didn’t? And what if she wanted him to, because she was that disgusting, and what if he didn’t want to? And what if she spent her whole life captive and then died, without touching anyone at all, having never brought any kind of happiness to anyone?

_Your power is supposed to make people happy_, Stella used to tell her, jealous and bitter and mocking. Before Stella had died protecting her. And Shirley wondered in what spirit Stella had sacrificed herself. Was it to protect her little sister? Or was it to protect a Merines who could do nothing, help no one, make none happy, and sometimes had not even the optimism to pray?

She let her face drop into her hands and rolled over onto the bed. Curled in foetal position, she turned her face into the rose coverlet, and screamed only in her own head.

==

She spent just short of three days in Moses’s captivity, when she heard Senel through the door. There were two other voices too, feminine & masculine, and they all had to beg Senel not to break and bloody his hands trying to pry the door apart.

Giet was out of the room with Moses, and Shirley had no possessions to gather as Senel went to secure the key to the room, but she fussed about anyhow. Trying to tidy up when there was nothing to tidy.

The bandits hadn’t hit her. They hadn’t touched her. And although she’d been bored sitting around an empty room, she’d at least been fed and cared for. It hadn’t really been all that different from waiting for Senel’s work day to end, hiding alone in the apartment she and Senel had shared on the mainland.

And now the worst was over. She was getting out. _Prayer had worked after all_, she thought. _Either Senel would save her, or he wouldn’t. _And he had.

She went to throw the contents of the chamber pot over the balcony, when she startled and dropped the whole thing over the edge instead. It was a long way down, and she thought she heard it shatter at the bottom, although she couldn’t pry her eyes away to look.

Shirley shrieked.

The man in the turban weathered the noise, until Shirley had collected herself. She stood, swaying in place, trying to cover her own embarrassment at her outburst.

He had black wings that looked kind of like a teriques.

The man sighed. “Do you remember me?” he asked.

Shirley spoke after a moment, as softly as she could. “When we first came to this island. You were at the spring. You fought my brother.”

“He can’t possibly be your brother.” It was said with far too much certainty to be a question, and Shirley could think of no response to it. But the man – no, again, just a boy – continued to looked at her eagerly. When Shirley still did not respond, “Are you scared of me?” he finally asked.

Shirley hid her mouth behind her sleeves, and finally nodded.

Walter sighed to himself. He had hoped to find the Merines less recalcitrant – less completely taken in. He studied her Orerines clothes and felt repulsed. It sickened him to don his own Orerines disguise, but at least when he had done so it had been of his own free will. He hadn’t been coerced, living amongst a bunch of brutes.

No matter, they’d fix it later. For now, he just had to get her out of here.

Walter jutted out his palm, and although the Merines tried to shriek once more, the dark sphere hit her, knocked her out, and enveloped her. It followed after him, when he floated up on his wings – _Delques._

In his own mind, the sphere held her less inert and constrained than the bandit’s locked room, less captive than her love for her Orerines “brother”.

When Norma asked Shirley, years later, how she ranked these experiences herself, it was not gentle. It was a callous and insensitive prodding from a jealous young woman who had nothing but what she’d sold pieces of herself for.

Shirley found herself at a pause, but the sea breeze swept through the open balcony at the inn, and it lifted her shame away: Senel’s apartment, and Moses’s bandit layer, and Walter’s dark sphere, and Vaclav, and Maurits – all her countless abductions had blended together into one period of her life, and it all felt more or less the same. Like prayer.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for learned helplessness and victim mentality, and Shirley having intrusive thoughts about a lot of things including, at one point, the possibility of rape.
> 
> The wiki told me that Moses calls Shirley “my lamb” in Japanese, and I thought that was more funny-predatory than the stuff he says in English, so I stole it. He doesn’t call anyone “sugar” anywhere so far as I know but *puts on sunglasses* I do what I want. In general, sorry for heavily remixing the canon dialogue.
> 
> I was upset that, in the manga precanon, Senel causes a scene with a passer-by and scolds Shirley and generally negatively reinforces her fear of leaving the house by herself. And I was more upset by the game’s storyline constantly damselling her. You can consider this a response to that. Please also note that this fic isn’t meant to be anti-faith in any way, although I also didn’t think the way the game itself associates Shirley with passivity and prayer and rescue is coincidental at all.
> 
> Thanks for reading~


End file.
